The guards returned nearly an hour later. The tall one, Rodriguez, approached the iron bars. “Did you get a nice rest?” he chortled, his accent sounding garbled in the stuffy hallway.
He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Bent down and unceremoniously hauled her up to her feet. Her head had cleared but she feigned a bout of light-headedness, lurching forward so the bulky dark-skinned man was forced to grab for her.
“Señor Devlin has a surprise for you,” the guard said. The hard glint in his dark eyes belied the pleasant smile on his lips.
There would be nothing pleasant about this next encounter. Of that she was certain.
She was taken back into the interrogation room. This time the guards didn’t tie her up. A cot was now set up in the corner of the room, boasting a mattress stained with fluids she never wanted to know about.
Rodriguez pushed her down on the mattress. It creaked as her weight hit it. The second guard stood by the open door, leering at her naked body like a lion hovering over a bloody carcass.
A moment later, Devlin stepped into the room. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a white button-down shirt, his brown hair slicked back from his face, emphasizing his harsh, angular features.
“Hello again,” he said cheerfully. “Did you miss me?”
She didn’t respond.
Anger flared in his soulless eyes. “Still not talking, are we? That’s fine. No words are required for what I have in mind.” He nodded at Rodriguez, who promptly unzipped his trousers.
Devlin must have seen the glimmer of dread in her eyes because he laughed. “Don’t be scared of Javier. He’s only going to fuck you, not kill you. And when he’s done, Sancho here will take his pleasure.” He hooked his thumb at the second guard standing by the door. “And after Sancho’s had his fun, it will be my turn.”
Devlin licked his bottom lip and swept his gaze over her bare breasts. “I have to warn you, luv, that I probably won’t be as gentle as my predecessors.”
“Touch me and I’ll rip your eyes out,” she hissed.
She made a move to sit up but Rodriguez shoved her so that she was flat on her back. He glanced at Devlin as if asking for permission, and when the other man nodded he dropped his trousers and pulled out his cock. Chuckling, he wagged it in front of her face. As a rush of rage swept through her, Abby tried to bite at the tip but the guard slapped her hard across the face with one meaty hand. Her bottom lip snagged in her teeth. Blood filled her mouth.
“Let the games begin,” she heard Devlin murmur.
Like hell they would.
She closed her eyes and waited for Rodriguez to lower his big body onto hers. His fingers dug into her sore thighs, attempting to pry her legs apart, his throbbing organ searching for her opening.
“You ready, señorita?” he muttered, his hot breath fanning against her ear.
“Yep.”
Before he could blink, her arm soared upward. The heel of her palm smashed into his face, breaking his nose, and as he grunted loudly, distracted by the pain, she wrapped her arms around his thick neck and twisted. He died instantly, his hand still on his cock. Ignoring the pain shooting through her wrist, she scissor-kicked herself onto her feet, lunging for Devlin, who looked stunned by the violence that had just transpired.
He reached for her but she delivered a well-placed kick to his balls and shoved him away. The guard at the door was drawing his gun but he was too slow. Her fist connected with his nose before he could act. Blood poured from his nostrils. She jammed her finger against his carotid artery and knocked him out cold. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he dropped to the dirty floor like a stone, unconscious.
She was two steps from the doorway when a pair of hands encircled her neck and squeezed. She gasped, trying to kick Devlin away, but he was too strong, too enraged. “You little bitch,” he hissed at her, his fingers tightening over her skin.
Her vision grew fuzzy, her windpipe quivering as it tried to suck in the oxygen this bastard was depriving her of.
“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered angrily. He loosened his grip and she gulped in a gust of air, her brain struggling to function. “But first I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck your cunt and your ass until I tear you open and you’re bleeding all over my cock.”
He dragged her by her hair and flung her back on the cot. Voices drifted into the room from the hallway. Three more guards appeared in the doorway, shouting at Devlin in Spanish.
He turned his head, just slightly, to bark out a few orders. The guards stepped back, wary, eyeing the two motionless bodies of the guards she’d taken care of.
Devlin glanced down at her, his eyes wild with fury and sexual excitement. He raised one arm over his head, then sent it smashing into her jaw. Abby grunted, spitting out blood.
“I told you I wouldn’t be gentle,” he taunted.
“And I said,” she squeezed out, “that if you touch me, I will rip your eyes out.”
Chapter 3
Either Blanco’s security was slipping, or this was a fucking trap. Kane waited in the shadows, unmoving, unblinking, focusing on the small adobe structure that stood ten yards away. Breaching Blanco’s compound had been too easy. Scary easy, seeing as Morgan had opted for a six-man team for the job rather than contacting all his men. Holden, using his techno voodoo, had disabled the electric fence and bypassed the alarm. D had snipped a nice little hole in the fence, and zero guards had stood sentry in the yard as the men crept onto the property.
Morgan had perched himself on the roof of the training facility across from the makeshift prison, rifle in his hands, eye on the scope. Luke and Ethan were back near the fence, covering the perimeter.
Kane and D had approached the jail from opposite ends, weapons drawn.
And still no guards.
Kane tightened his hold on the trigger. Fuck. He didn’t like this. The compound was far too quiet, no sounds save for the soft hiss of the wind. According to their intel, there should’ve been five guards inside the prison, two at the entrance, but the steel door was unmanned. Why the hell was that? What were the two fuckers doing, making out in the bushes?
Hanging back, he wondered how Holden was faring with the power situation. Holden McCall was a genius when it came to technology—the guy could steal a damn car using nothing but his laptop. Quiet, intense, and ever focused, Holden could always be counted on, but at the moment he was taking his sweet-ass time. Kane and D were grounded until Holden killed the lights that illuminated the yard like a Christmas tree. They’d arranged for a neat power outage, something to throw the compound into a bit of chaos.
But apparently Blanco’s men were perfectly capable of creating their own chaos.
He flinched as a primal cry rang out from the prison. A male shriek laced with pain, horror, and fury.
Kane’s balls shriveled. Lord, any man who screamed like that had either been castrated or set on fire.
A few seconds later, the steel door of the prison was flung open and a stream of guards burst out. Kane did a quick count—one, two, three. Four and five were carrying a man in their arms. He didn’t wear the navy blue uniform, so obviously a civilian. That left two guards.
Adrenaline pumping through his veins, he shot forward, nearly slamming into D. The two men stormed the jail, moving in opposite directions. Kane heard a startled male cry, a shout cut short by a sickening crack.
A familiar crack. A man’s neck being snapped, aka D taking care of business.
Moving into the musty-smelling corridor, Kane raised his assault rifle. Under the glow of the weak single bulb lighting the cell-lined hall, he caught a flash of movement. A guard was shoving a woman into one of the cells. The sound of Spanish expletives filled the air. Slamming the cell door, the guard cursed a final time, then turned. He froze when he caught sight of Kane.
Eyes flicking to the barrel pointed at him, the guard reached for the pistol holstered at his hip. He was a second too late. Kane’s bullet hit the man between the ey
es.
“Nice shot,” D drawled, coming up behind him.
“She’s down here,” Kane said briskly, crossing the hall with three long strides.
He kicked the guard’s lifeless body out of the way, glanced at the cell, and halted. When his gaze fell on the motionless woman lying on the floor, the blood in his veins turned to ice.
“Oh shit,” D muttered.
As his heart thudded against his rib cage, Kane slid open the metal door and dropped to his knees. He reached for the battered woman, cursing wildly when he caught sight of all the blood.
“Fucking animals,” D rasped.
Kane met the other man’s eyes and the rage he saw in them mirrored his own. He glanced back at the woman. A redhead. Naked and bleeding and broken.
Swallowing, he lifted her into his arms and stumbled out of the cell.
“Cover us.” He barked the order at D, then sprinted for the door.
Nothing and nobody encountered them when they stepped outside. No guards, no gunshots. Whatever happened in that jail just now, it had sent all of Blanco’s men scurrying to the main house. And Holden had done his thing with the lights. The entire courtyard was bathed in darkness.
They rushed across the compound, Kane carrying the redhead, D covering them from behind. To his left, Kane caught sight of a guard sprawled in the dirt, neck twisted in an unnatural position. Dead. Morgan, as always, was efficient.
They stole across the grounds and headed for the hills at the edge of the compound. The barbed wire fence that surrounded Blanco’s entire property boasted a jagged hole. Morgan and Holden waited there, swiftly bending down to help the new arrivals through.
“Go,” Kane said to D, shifting the unconscious woman to his other shoulder.
D went first, then helped Kane pull the woman through. Finally, they were out.
They took off at a run, slicing through the trees and brush. Up ahead the brush widened into a large glade. The sound of a helicopter’s rotors filled the night.
Kane tried hard not to look at the woman as he waited for the helicopter’s descent, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from her. Shit, she was in bad shape. Really bad shape. He shifted her to one arm, reaching out with the other to brush strands of red hair from her face.
Next to him, Morgan hissed. “Jesus, Abby,” he muttered. “What did they do to you?”
Abby.
Kane stared at her, wondering who she was, what she meant to Morgan. There wasn’t time to ask any questions though. The chopper set down, and seconds later they were all inside it, the woman still cradled in Kane’s arms.
As their pilot, Sam, whisked them away from the compound, Kane was surprised to see moisture in his boss’s eyes. Morgan’s gaze was glued to the redhead, and the concern on his face was unmistakable.
“What did they do to you?” he murmured again.
Strong hands were clawing at his body, forcing him into the restraints. Devlin roared with fury as he felt the leather cuffs tighten around his wrists. “You bloody morons!” he screamed. “Let me go!”
“Stay still, Mr. Devlin,” came a soothing Middle Eastern voice. “I need to examine the wound.”
Frustration and rage seared up his spine and clamped around his throat. The doctor bent over him, his fingers prying, prodding, bringing a streak of pain that made the left side of Devlin’s face throb with agony. Every muscle in his body shrieked in outrage. “Untie me,” he roared as the doctor continued with his ungodly examination. “That bitch needs to pay for—”
“She’s gone.” A cold voice snapped from the doorway.
Devlin heard footsteps, and then Luis Blanco entered his line of vision. “Move away from him,” Blanco barked at the doctor.
Zelig Hassan stepped aside, giving Blanco an unobstructed view of his patient. Blanco visibly cringed, but quickly recovered his composure. He observed the restraints shackling Devlin’s wrists, then glanced at the doctor cowering in the corner of the room. “Are those necessary?”
Hassan nodded. “I’ve given him antibiotics intravenously to ward off infection. He has tried to escape twice already.”
“Escape!” Devlin echoed in anger. “I’m not a prisoner.” He glared at Blanco. “Release me. I have matters to take care of.”
Blanco narrowed his eyes. “The woman did this to you?”
“Do you think I would have done this to myself?” Devlin tugged violently at the restraints. “Let me out so I can slit the bitch’s throat.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible at the moment. Someone took the initiative to liberate her from the compound.”
“How in bloody hell did that happen?” Devlin demanded.
Blanco’s expression clouded over. “The fence was breached. Someone orchestrated a power outage and took advantage of your, uh, predicament to rescue the woman.”
Devlin swallowed down a lump of fury. The pain dimmed, becoming a dull ache as he thought of Erica’s innocent blue eyes and delicate red hair. Fucking bitch. He’d always prided himself on being extremely good at reading people. The woman’s deception brought the vicious taste of bile to his mouth. He hadn’t broken her. And now she was gone.
Devlin growled at Blanco. “Tell the bloody bastard to release me. Every second she’s out there is one we can’t afford to lose. We still don’t know who she works for.”
“You said you were confident she wasn’t government.”
“Confident, not certain. And if I’m wrong, your precious business venture is in jeopardy.”
Blanco just laughed. “Government or not, the woman can’t hurt us. She learned nothing of value while she was here.”
Cocky bastard. It still amazed Devlin how this half-brained idiot could have built such a nefarious empire. “Regardless, it’s prudent that we find her,” he snapped.
Blanco offered a humorless smile. “Don’t fret. I already have people looking for her.”
“Your people are imbeciles. I’ll find the whore.”
“When the doctor tells me it’s safe to release you, I will.” Blanco chortled. “You know, dear Devlin, it brings me a strange sense of pleasure, seeing you immobilized and chained to a bed.”
Devlin’s jaw tensed. He was about to remind Blanco of what he was capable of doing to him when he was no longer in restraints, but a hesitant knock came from the door. Devlin craned his head, squinted, and recognized Delgado, the guard who manned the security monitors. The young man’s hands shook as he approached Blanco and held out a piece of paper. “The cameras caught one of the intruders. It’s just a profile but—”
Blanco grabbed the photo and studied it. Then he dismissed Delgado and thrust the photo at Devlin. “Recognize him?”
There was a moment of silence, broken by Devlin’s harsh chuckle. “Oh yes.”
“A friend of yours?”
“Not quite.” His lips tightened. “Tell your people to call off the search. They won’t find the woman. These men don’t leave a trail.”
Blanco narrowed his eyes. “You know them?”
Devlin smirked. “Jim Morgan has her. The man in the security photo—that’s Holden McCall, a colleague of Morgan’s.”
“Jim Morgan—the mercenary? You mean to tell me that Morgan’s team of amateurs were the ones who breached my property?”
“Trust me, they’re not amateurs.”
Blanco seemed uncharacteristically flustered. With a frown, he turned to the doctor. “Release him. Mr. Devlin has a job to do.”
Chapter 4
Kane stared at the unconscious redhead sprawled across the bed and cursed under his breath. Goddamn it. She was in bad shape. Her swollen face was various shades of purple, and the young doctor Morgan kept on the payroll had stitched up some of the deeper cuts along her stomach. A few ribs were bruised, her wrist was fractured, and the welts covering her entire body weren’t pretty to look at.
But at least she was breathing.
A knock sounded on the bedroom door and D strode in. He let out a low whistle when he
caught sight of their patient. “She looks dead,” he remarked. “Devlin?”
Kane’s jaw tightened. “Has to be, unless Blanco hired himself a new enforcer.”
D shook his head. “Nah. Last I heard, Devlin was still employed by the son of a bitch.”
His gaze drifted back to Abby. “Then this is Devlin’s work. We both know how much he enjoys his whip.”
“He also enjoys slitting throats. Why didn’t he kill her?”
“No fucking clue.”
“Has she woken up yet?”
“No.” Kane paused. “Did Sam make arrangements with the airfield?”
“Everything’s set. The jet’s ready when we need it.” D absently stroked the tattoo circling his wrist, a stream of tiny black text that Kane couldn’t decipher. “The sooner we get this chick back to her assassin boss, the better.”
Kane cocked his head. “Why’s that?”
D shrugged, his gaze moving to the woman on the bed. “Got a bad feeling about this one, man. She’s supposed to be a pro, right? So how the fuck did she wind up in Blanco’s jail?”
“Even pros make mistakes.”
D’s black eyes narrowed. “Not this one, bro.” He made for the door. “My advice? Don’t let her out of your sight.”
After D left the room, Kane gazed at the woman again. She was attractive. Well, probably. Once the swelling eased and the bruises faded he’d be able to make a better assessment. She didn’t look dangerous though. Probably the jaw, too soft and delicate. But D was rarely wrong. The guy had a sixth sense about people.
He walked over and sat down at the edge of the bed. He didn’t like this. What the hell had gone down in that prison tonight? The screams, the male body being lugged out. What had this woman gotten herself into?
A soft whimper.
Kane went on alert. He watched as the redhead stirred, her eyelids fluttering. With a sigh, he touched her cheek. Immediately, he withdrew his hand. Touching her felt… wrong. Or maybe it wasn’t the contact itself, but the way he’d done it. Tenderly. Fuck. What was that about? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched a woman with tenderness.